 | Poems on several occasions |  |
610
I.—AN ODE TO MR. WALPOLE.
I
Walpole, accept the lyric strain:The strain is ever due to thee,
Thou saver of the Preston train,
And great restorer of South Sea!
II
In vain, unfriendly to the lyre,Thou seek'st to quench the poet's flame;
In vain would Modesty retire
From glory which thy merits claim.
611
III
Begin! the annals fair unfoldOf Walpole prevalently great,
When simple Tories gave the gold
That bribed their party from its seat;
IV
When Parliaments were doom'd no moreThan three short winters to remain,
Till wisdom deep prolong'd their power,
And bade them for a life-time reign.
V
Through thee the free-born Briton bravesThe' assaults of arbitrary power;
Tortured with shackles, laughs at slaves;
And boasts of freedom in the Tower!
VI
Through thee may British kings possessA more advanced revenue far
Than James or Charles enjoy'd in peace,
Than Anne or William in their war.
VII
Merit, not number, now we see,In all elections bears the sway;
And fifty, when sustain'd by thee,
Can make five hundred fly away.
612
VIII
Thy conduct no suspicion draws,Nor friends of liberty alarms;
Though arms are still increased by laws,
And laws are still enforced by arms.
IX
Long daring to oppose thy power,By thee the stubborn Francis fell;
Resistless, when thine anger swore
The haughty prelate's pride to quell.
X
Thy piercing eye through plots profound,Almost unsearchable, can see;
And depths which Harcourt cannot sound
Are plain to Pawlett made by thee.
XI
To thee the' united senate bends,And laws themselves confess thy power;
The Charter of the Forest ends,
And Magna Charta is no more.
XII
Through thee all court the stronger side;Protesting keen no more alarms;
The haughty London veils her pride,
And Scots deliver up their arms.
613
XIII
For thee their chests the misers drain,And three per cent. rejoice to choose;
To others faithful but for gain,
Obliged by Walpole when they lose.
XIV
Thy pleasure right and wrong can makeTo shift their limits to and fro:
Freind at thy nod as hell is black,
And Saint-John is as white as snow.
XV
The Utrecht treaty, growing good,That severs Austria's house from Spain,
'Twas Oxford's treason to conclude,
'Tis Walpole's glory to maintain.
XVI
Thy mercy wise, for public ends,To every sect indulgence shows,
To Quakers unbaptized extends,
And smiles on unconverted Jews.
XVII
Thy yoke old rebels willing bear,Obsequious to thy least command:
Nor wilt thou leave, to breathe the air,
A single Tory in the land.
614
XVIII
One only wish the bard can giveTo raise thine honour yet more high:
When fate permits no more to live,
With equal glory mayst thou die!
| Poems on several occasions | |